Five minutes after Mass

Let's draw a line. A stark choice confronts every Catholic,
every Sunday after Mass: to run, or to linger.

Jesus Christ has, minutes before, entered our midst. Several
moments of silence and peace hung in the air - sometimes the
first quiet in seven days. Our prayers "arose like incense"
as the Psalmist reminds us.

And suddenly, Father is giving the closing blessing. A baby
cries. A kneeler slams to the floor. The organ fires up for
the recessional hymn. The kids, sensing freedom with the
first notes of music, chomp at the bit.

Run, or linger?

In my upbringing as an Evangelical Protestant, the
recessional hymn was only a prelude - to an extended time of
fellowship, food and coffee. Lots of lingering - at least 15
minutes, but often closer to an hour.

My parents would catch up with friends over a cup of coffee,
while we kids would run around a gym, courtyard or church
hall, playing basketball or some other game with our friends.
Tons of noise. Sugar. Store-bought cookies and lemonade and
lots of laughter. Our pastor always lingered, and we could
all count on a weekly check-in with him.

While I have been Catholic for a good many years, I still
cannot shake the muscle memory which comes with the closing
hymn.

My wife and I are, for the most part, sticklers about
sticking it out till the last word of the last verse of the
recessional hymn. Our kids are holding firm (at least for
now). Meanwhile, in a dizzying rush, 70 percent of our fellow
parishioners vanish - breaking for the doors, some already
holding their keys in anticipation of hitting the road.

I risk sounding judgmental, but I'll let the chips fall. As
my seventh-grade daughter might say, "Just sayin'": Something
important is lost in this collective rush to the car.

For the sake of argument, let's call the stampede to the
parking lot and a Sunday chock-full of commitments the
"culture of busy." I've been there and will continue to have
days when that's my family, rushing for the door.

But to the discerning eye in those five minutes after Mass,
there are at least three viable countercultures to the
culture of busy. They are subtle. Like endangered birds, they
don't attract attention. But they can still be spotted in
most parishes - if you are attentive, quiet and looking for
them.

Prayer

As the closing chords of the recessional hymn still
reverberate, what better time than to drop to one's knees and
offer the coming week - all of its crosses and joys - to the
Lord?

Can't it all wait for just five minutes? Other parents who
lead their children in a brief series of prayers after Mass
inspire me to do better. I see individuals kneeling, intent
and expectant in several moments of quiet prayer. These are
countercultural men and women and children who sacrifice
their need to rush - and instead find the greater pearl of
prayer.

Devotions

A second counterculture thrives in parishes which are blessed
with a statuary, stained glass or stations of the cross. In
my parish, a steadfast minority of parishioners - instead of
rushing for the doors - nearly rush to these powerhouses of
prayer. Some touch the feet of the St. Joseph statue. Others
kneel before the statue of Jesus and the Sacred Heart. Others
place flowers before the statue of Our Lady.

With purposeful movement, these Catholics set a different
tone. They remind us of the "catechism of stone" that our
sanctuaries can be. They open our eyes to the sacramentals.
These Catholics relate to the saints pictured in the stained
glass on a first-name basis.

Fellowship

A third counterculture lingers in the wings, the narthex or
on the sidewalk. These men, women and families take the time
to ask one another a daring question: "How are you?" In the
process, they discover a new promotion, an upcoming move, a
diagnosis of cancer, a miracle or the ordinary ups and downs
of another week.

All of this - wondrously - is in the air around us in those
five minutes after Mass. If only we took the time to discover
it.

Next Sunday, instead of reaching for our keys, let's pay
attention to our hearts in those first minutes after Mass.
Let's invite the Lord into a quick internal conversation
about our desire to run, our desire to escape getting "bogged
down" in a long conversation or the seeming brick wall we are
hitting in prayer.

Just linger - and see what happens.

Johnson, a husband and father of five, is Arlington Bishop
Paul S. Loverde's special assistant for evangelization and
media. He can be reached on Twitter @Soren_t.